He shook like the leaves of the elm tree in the summer wind. Dame Bond hesitated. He trembled more violently. "Do you hesitate to honor the name of Queen Charlotte?" he said. The woman took a pinch of snuff in memory of the days gone. He grew calmer. "That strengthens me," he said. "What am I to do? The things that I see daily tear me all to pieces. It broke my heart to see that child run away. I can not cross the sea, and if they were to tear down the king's arms from the State House I would die. I would tremble until I grew cold and my breath left me. You do pity me, don't you? I sometimes grow cold now when I tremble." It was June. A bugle rang out in the street. "What is that?" he asked of a volunteer who passed by. "It is the summons." "For what?" "For the assembling of the people." "In God's name, for what? Is a royal messenger coming?" "No. They are going to tear down the king's arms from all the buildings at six, and are going to pile them up on tar barrels and make a bonfire of them when the sun goes down. The flame will ascend to heaven. That will be the end of the reign of King George III in this province forever!" The old man trembled again. "I am cold," he said.--"Dame Bond, take another pinch of snuff out of the silver box with the golden arms--it helps me." Dame Bond once more paid her respects to Queen Charlotte. "Before God, you do not tell me, sir, that they are going to take down the king's arms from the State House?" "The king's arms are to be torn down from all the buildings, my aged friend; from the inns, the shops, the houses, the State House, and all." "Dame Bond, my limbs fail. I shall never go home again. Tell the family as you pass that I shall not return to tea with them. Let me pass the evening here, where Penn made his treaty with the Indians. To-night is the last of Pennsylvania. I never wish to see another morning." [Illustration: THE DESTRUCTION OF THE ROYAL ARMS.] At seven o'clock in the long, fiery day the great bell rang. The bugle sounded again. People ran hither and thither. A rocket flared across the sky, and a great cry went up: "Down with the arms!" A procession headed with soldiers passed through the streets of the city bearing with them a glittering sign. Military music filled the air. The old man's daughter Mercy came to see him under the tree and to persuade him to go home with her. "Mercy--daughter--what are they carrying away?" "The king's arms from the State House; that is all, father." "All! all! Say you rather that it is the world!" The roseate light faded from the high hills and the waters. The sea birds screamed, and cool breezes made the multitudinous leaves of the tree to quiver. "Mercy--daughter--and what was that?" "They are lighting a bonfire, father." "What for?" "To burn the king's arms." "What will we do without a king?" "They will have a Congress." A great shout went up on a near hill.